All or Nothing
by Chelles
Summary: There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion... Longfellow
1. Chapter 1

A/N: What's this? A _third_ WIP? Am I totally insane?

Maybe. But, I'm also on break for another couple weeks, and this idea won't leave me alone, so I've decided to indulge it while I have the time. Don't worry, the other stories will still be updated as regularly as they ever are.

This story is a series of vignettes based on Grissom and Sara's relationship and its uncanny similarity to Theory of a Deadman's "All or Nothing." Each chapter will be a different scene from their relationship, some from Sara's perspective (like this first one) and some from Grissom's. Each will also include the lyric that inspired it, which will be in italics.

I hope you'll enjoy this story! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 102, "Cool Change."

* * *

_When I first saw you standing there, you know, was a little hard not to stare_

Three days, two hours, twenty-ish minutes.

That's how long it had been since I'd talked to Gil Grissom before I got a panicked phone call.

"_Sara, Holly's been shot. Warrick was supposed to be with her, but he wasn't, and … he's in trouble, Sara. I need you. Please, you've got to come to Vegas. You've got to help me figure out this mess."_

Well, so much for my theory that he just wanted to talk about last night's _ER_.

Four months, two weeks, three days.

That's how long it has been since I've seen Gil Grissom. The last time was at a forensics conference in Phoenix. I was presenting for the first time, and he was attending. I like to think it was for moral support, but he could have just gone for the lectures. Either way, regardless of the circumstances, it was _so_ nice to see him again. I had missed him.

And, now…

He was working when I arrived. I had expected nothing less. In fact, I didn't even call him when I landed in Vegas. I just took a cab to the crime lab, where a helpful receptionist told me where to find him.

He is standing in front of a hotel, watching dummies fly through the air and land at his feet. A crowd has gathered around him; they cheer as each dummy hits the ground. I'm a bit surprised; I've never gotten this sort of reaction in San Francisco. Of course, I don't actually toss dummies off hotels, either. There are computer programs that can simulate it perfectly.

I don't interrupt him. Part of it is professional courtesy; he's obviously busy and in a rhythm. The other part, I'm only slightly ashamed to admit, is that I want to watch him. I've attended his seminars and listened to his lectures, but to actually see him work … It's almost erotic. I've never seen anything like it, and I can't bring myself to speak to him and stop the display before me.

He begins photographing the last dummy, and I know that I need to make my presence known. I finally lift the crime scene tape and step closer to him.

"Norman fell," he says as he snaps the last photo.

"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?" I ask, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

I'm behind him, so I can't see his face. His stance changes immediately, though. He stands up straighter, and seems as though a weight has lifted off his shoulders.

"I don't even have to turn around," he says. "Sara Sidle."

He does turn, and the smile on his face matches the one I can feel on mine.

It is _so_ nice to see him again. I know the circumstances are terrible, but … I've missed him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind response to the first installment! I hope you enjoy this next one as much.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 423, "Bloodlines."

* * *

_So nervous when I drove you home_

I've never found walking slowly to be such a struggle before. Maybe it's because I haven't been forced to walk slowly since high school.

Or, maybe it's because I've never wanted to reach my destination so badly.

To say that I panicked when Officer Harris called would be incorrect. I didn't panic until he told me that Sara had been driving under the influence. I've never been so scared for anyone. Even though he told me that she's all right, even though I _know_ that she's completely fine, I can't bring myself to fully _believe_ it. I need to see her, so that I can look at her and talk to her and know that she's all right.

Officer Harris promised that he'd keep her at PD for me. I've never left my office so quickly before. I didn't bring home anything that I needed to work on over the weekend. And, for the first time, I just don't care. Sara is all that matters right now. I'm terrified for her.

And, now, when I'm finally at the police station where she's waiting for me, I have to walk slowly down the hall, listening to Officer Harris tell me what she blew on the breathalyzer, how close to the legal limit she was, and how they chose to call me rather than to book her.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate the courtesy," I manage to say.

"No problem," he said with a nod. He points me toward the waiting room, where Sara is sitting alone.

_She's all right_, is my first thought. She truly is. She's whole and unbroken … and, terribly, horribly ashamed. It's obvious in the way she's sitting hunched slightly forward, her chin leaning on her hands, staring straight out in front of her. She looks … small.

The sight nearly takes my breath away. I've never seen Sara as anything but strong. Tough as nails. A totally different, yet frighteningly similar, version of Catherine. But, now, she looks vulnerable.

And, for the first time since I've known her, I want to be strong for her. I want her to lean on me. I want to take care of her.

I cross the room slowly, and sit down next to her. She lowers her hands, templing her fingers in front of her. She is still looking straight ahead, either unwilling or unable to meet my eyes. I watch her for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

Finally, I slip my hand between hers, grasping her right hand firmly in mine. Her gaze shifts to our hands, watching as her fingers close around mine.

"Come on," I say. "I'll take you home."

She exhales, and bows her head forward.

"Sara," I say gently, shaking her hand slightly, "come on. You can't stay here all night."

She finally looks at me; I'm shocked to see tears standing in her eyes. I'm even more shocked by my own, inner reaction: I'm torn between wanting to wipe them away and wanting to continue holding her hand.

"Sara," I whisper.

She nods, and lets me stand up and pull her to her feet. I take her to my car, refusing to release her hand until I absolutely have to so that I can open her door for her. I have to hold on to her … something in her eyes tells me that if I don't, she'll fall away from reality and sink so deeply into her emotions that I won't know how to help her get back.

She sits down in the passenger seat of my car, and looks up at me. Her eyes are no longer teary, but are still bright and red-rimmed.

"Griss …" she says thickly.

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." I close her door, and walk around to climb in behind the wheel. I start the car and look across at her. "You okay?"

She manages a lop-sided smile. "I am now."

I smile back, and pull out of the parking lot. Once I'm on the road, I drop my right hand to my leg, a habit that formed to help me get over resting it on the shifter once I started driving an automatic car.

Sara watches me for a moment, then reaches for my hand. Warmth spreads through me as I wrap my fingers around hers.

I have no idea what is going to happen when we arrive at her apartment. I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year. Just thinking about all the unknowns makes me nervous.

But, I am sure of one thing: The only place I want to be right now is with Sara, holding her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this one.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Being apart's a little hard to bear_

I've been tracking the package online for the past three days.

Yes, I realize it's slightly obsessive that the first thing I do when I sit down at my computer is to check its status. I can't help it. I need to know where it is, how close to _her_ it is.

I miss her. I miss her more than I thought possible. And, I know that I couldn't seal myself into the package, but, giving her something that, although not completely attractive now, will become beautiful, seems like the best way to send her a piece of myself. Our relationship has been like that. Even though things weren't all that great between us for a long time, now, everything has fallen into place. It's beautiful.

Finally, on the third day, the online tracker shows that it has been delivered. I can't stop the grin, imagining how it must have happened. It was delivered, according to the records, at 11:45 in the morning. Too late for Judy to still be there, so the day shift receptionist must have signed for it. That's probably for the best. I don't know Carly all that well, so I doubt she would have been interested in why I was sending Sara a package.

Judy, on the other hand, will be only mildly curious. She'll notice my name on the return address, for sure, but she'll assume it's something related to a current case and leave it alone. And, she'll be sure to give the package straight to Sara.

Not for the first time, I wondered if it was a mistake to send it to her at work, rather than at home. At the time, it had made all the sense in the world. At the lab, there would be someone there to receive it, even if Sara was at work when it arrived. It would be kept in a cool place, rather than baking on her doorstep in the Las Vegas sun until she got home.

In the end, my fear for the package had outweighed my fear of our relationship being discovered.

As I begin the process of shutting down my computer for the night, I wonder how she'll react when she opens the package. If she'll understand what I was thinking when I sent it to her. If she'll like it.

If she misses me half as much as I miss her.

I've never missed anyone the way I miss her. When I agreed to teach the seminar, all I could think of was the excitement of teaching, and of seeing a different place in the country. I'm embarrassed to admit that Sara never even entered into it.

It wasn't until I said goodbye to her in the lab that I realized that I was leaving her. That I wouldn't see her for a month. Looking into her eyes, seeing the sorrow she was trying to desperately to hide, it struck me that I wouldn't be able to do that again for four weeks. And, in that moment, I realized that I would miss her.

That maybe, just maybe, I was a bit hasty in making my decision to come to Williams.

* * *

I've just stepped out of the bathroom after showering and shaving when my phone rings. Still wrapped in a towel, I hurry to pick it up.

"Grissom," I say without thinking.

"Good morning."

Her voice invades my mind, quickly moving to curl around my heart. I smile. "Hi. It's not really morning in Las Vegas, is it?"

"That all depends on your definition of morning," she says. "I'm still at work, so I don't have much time, but I wanted to call when I knew I could still catch you." She pauses. "Thank you for the package."

My face lights up. "You got it?"

"Judy gave it to me as soon as I got to the lab."

"Good." There is so much I want to say, so much that I want to explain, that I want to make sure she understood, but … I can't find the words. I clear my throat. "How's your shift going?"

She hesitates. "Weird," she finally says.

"Weird, how?"

Again, she pauses. "I really can't tell you anything about it right now," she says, leaving me to wonder if someone else has entered the room, or if she truly _can't_ talk about it just yet.

"Well," I say slowly, "you can tell me all about it when I get home."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly. "Hang on." There is a muffled sound that suggests she has put her hand over the phone to talk to someone else. "Hey, I've got to go," she says to me.

"Okay," I reply. "I need to get ready for class, too."

"Yeah, I figured," she says. She pauses. "I miss you," she says quietly.

"I miss you, too," I say, my own voice very soft. "I'll see you in a couple weeks."

"Right." Another pause. "Bye, Griss."

"Bye, Sara."

She hangs up first, and I'm left holding my cell phone and mentally kicking myself.

Why can I never say what I want to say to her? Why do I always find myself without words?

Why do I miss her so much?

I close my eyes briefly. I'm fairly certain I can answer all those questions.

I do need to tell her how I feel. I need to let her know how much I miss her. How easily I can close my eyes and picture her smile, hear her laugh.

How much I love her.

Speaking has never come easily to me. However, speech isn't the only way to convey thoughts and feelings.

I smile. There is another way – one that will come easier for me. A glance at the clock assures me that, if I dress quickly, I'll have time to begin before I go to class.

Falling back on quotes to express my own feelings has become a habit, one that I know Sara embraces. And, this time, I know the perfect quote to tell her how I feel.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: As you'll see with this chapter, I'm not going in chronological order according to the show, but, rather in order of the lyrics. I had a huge mental debate over this, but decided to be true to the song in terms of order, but the show in terms of everything else. I hope you'll like it.

Oh, and I'm sorry for the lag time…my computer was attacked by a killer virus. It's all better now, thank goodness!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 215, "Burden of Proof."

* * *

_Sent some flowers to your work in hopes that I'd have you in my arms again_

To say this case is difficult is an understatement. A twelve-year-old suffering from long-term sexual abuse, a man killed by a bullet made of frozen meat, a home burned to the ground … The sheer amount of crimes associated with the discovery of one body is astounding. The depth and horror of them is enough to make me question my career choice.

I walk into my office and sit down at my desk. I just need five minutes of peace. I wonder if my team will let me have it.

Glancing down at my desk, I notice a paper that wasn't there before. I pick it up and attempt to read it without my glasses. No … I think I need my glasses.

I put them on and look at it more closely. No, it is exactly as I saw it without my glasses, just in sharper focus. Sara is requesting a leave of absence … a lengthy leave of absence.

I'm just starting to read it through for the third time – second with reading glasses – when she appears in my doorway. I look at her in shock.

"What is this?" I ask, waving the form at her.

"It's … uh … just what is says. It's a request for a leave of absence," she says, trying to appear casual. "Six months … a year, maybe."

"Why?" I'm completely blindsided, and can't even begin to try to hide it.

"I was thinking of checking out the federal government system – FBI …"

I chuckle. I can't help it. The idea of a scientist of Sara's caliber working for the FBI is laughable. "We have the best lab in the country," I say dismissively.

Any attempt to be casual slides off her face as she stiffens. "I need a different work environment."

I turn just as serious as she is. "What does that mean?"

"One with … um … communication," she says. "Respect."

"Everybody here respects you," I say. It's true. As much as the guys tease her, I know they have immense respect for her as a scientist and a CSI.

"You don't," she says simply. Sorrow and, worse, disappointment shine in her eyes.

I'm stunned. How can she still be upset about …? "Is this about that hamburger thing?"

"No, Grissom! This is not about _that hamburger thing_! I-I-I don't believe you! How can you reduce everything I've said to some kind of single quirk? Do you think the problem here is just about me?"

I stare at her, truly bewildered.

"If you don't sign my leave, I'm going to have to quit."

_She's serious_. I watch as she turns to leave, knowing that I have to stop her, that I can't let her walk out of my life this easily …

"Hey, Sara?"

She stops and turns around.

_I need you_. It's so simple. I just have to tell her the truth, and she'll stay. I can see it in her eyes.

I can't do it. "The lab needs you."

She forces a smile. "Great."

She leaves. I stare after her, wondering how things could have gone so wrong so quickly.

_How can I make this right?_

* * *

I spend the rest of the night avoiding Sara. I do observe her, though, and, after a few hours, I see her talking and joking with Nick and Warrick like she always does. I breathe a sigh of relief. If she's acting like herself again, everything in surely fine.

_She won't leave the lab. She won't leave us._

_She won't leave_ me.

* * *

It's been awhile since a case has been disturbing enough that it merits drinking with Catherine at the conclusion of shift. But, as we clocked out at the end of our double, she grabbed my arm. I look down at her.

"I'll bring the vodka."

I smile slightly. "I've got plenty of orange juice."

She winks at me, and we part ways. As I walk to my car, I'm already thinking of what to make for our dinner.

* * *

Catherine arrives about half an hour after I get home. I've already got chicken in the oven, and am starting to chop vegetables for a salad when she knocks on my door.

"Hi," I say, leading her to the kitchen.

"Hi," she replies.

As soon as we reach the kitchen, she retrieves two glasses from my cupboard, and pours us each a screwdriver.

"Tough case, huh?" I ask, sipping my drink and putting it down to resume cutting the tomato on my cutting board.

"Just give me a straight-ahead murder any day."

"Well, you wouldn't be human if it didn't affect you," I reply.

She watches me chop the tomato for a moment. "I heard about you and … Sara," she says.

I shake my head, smiling slightly. "Sara … you know … She gets very emotional."

Catherine shakes her head, staring at me in disbelief. "Are you in denial? No, that's … no, no, way too analytical. Wow, you got burned bad, huh? Welcome to the club. I got third-degree burns from my marriage. Happens to everybody. Everybody just moves on."

I look at her as though she's lost her mind … which, given her bizarre train of conversation, doesn't seem that far off the mark. "Good. Let's move on."

"But you have to deal with it!" she exclaims. "You have to deal with it first! You've got to deal with it before it goes away!" She pauses. "You are the supervisor. You have responsibilities, and people are making a family around you whether you like it or not, whether you give them permission or not." She smiles slightly. "We don't have to go to the Grand Tetons together, just … every now and then, you've got to lift your head up out of that microscope."

I nod slowly, turning over her words in my head. She has a point … we have become a family. And, as much as she fills the "mom" role to my "dad" when it comes to the team, there's something about Sara that is very different from Nick and Warrick. She doesn't fit into that "junior CSI" category the way they do. She doesn't …

She doesn't fit into any of the neat categories I have for the people in my life. She's more than a coworker … but, there's something about her that's not just a friend, either …

_I need to make this right …_

As much as she might try to hide it, there is an undeniably girly side to her. And, that is the side that needs to be placated right now.

"Yeah," I say absently.

Catherine smiles as though she already knows what I'm thinking. She walks away, sitting down on my couch while I flip through my address book until I find the number of a local florist. I've called them for consults before … but, this time, I need to call for an entirely different reason.

"Martin's Flowers," the young woman answering the phones says cheerfully. "How can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi," I say, suddenly feeling foolish. "I-I-I'd like to get some flowers for a girl. No, no. Not flowers. A plant. A living plant. She likes vegetation."

"Okay," the girl says. "Would you like a flowering plant? We just got some peace lilies that are really pretty."

"Yeah, that'd be fine." Perfectly appropriate, actually. "To a Sara Sidle. Deliver it at the CSI division, Las Vegas Police Department – the one out on North Trop Boulevard."

"North Trop," she repeats.

"Yeah. You can bill me at the same place."

"Your name?"

"Gil Grissom."

"And, the sentiment?"

"The sentiment?" I'm shocked by her forwardness.

"On the card, sir. What would you like it to say?"

"Oh … oh, on the card. Yeah. Um … uh … have it say …" I'm at a loss. There's no way to possibly encompass all the swirling emotions I've had about her over the years in one small card. "Have it say … uh …" I give up. "'From Grissom.'"

"Okay, sir, I've got it. We'll deliver it tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir. Have a nice day."

"You, too."

I hang up the phone and look at Catherine. She's smiling.

"She'll love it."

"You don't even know what it is."

"It doesn't matter. She'll love that you're going to all this trouble for her."

I exhale slowly. "Cath … you don't _really_ think she'll leave, do you?"

She smiles again, her eyes twinkling. "Not anymore."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I hope that everyone enjoyed the season 11 premiere as much as I did!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this installment.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck" and episode 1001, "All in the Family."

* * *

_We kissed that night before I left, still now was something I can never forget_

_Las Vegas, Nevada_

I can see him as I walk down the hall. He's standing with Hodges, going over a report. They're both engrossed in the report and their conversation; they haven't seen me yet.

_You don't have to do this. _

_Yes, you do. Judy already has the letter. There's no going back now._

_You can get it back from her. You don't have to – _

_Yes, I do. _

I've reached them. Grissom starts to smile at me; I know he's going to say hello or ask how I am or what I'm working on and I'll hear his voice and I'll get all weak in the knees and change my mind – again. I can't do that. I can't let it happen.

Before he can do more than smile, I put my hands on his shoulders and press my lips against his. I can feel his shock in the stiffness of his stance, in his utter lack of response. I push myself up on my tiptoes and kiss him harder. He finally responds; his hands land on my hips and he kisses me back.

I break the kiss and look at him.

_Goodbye. I love you._

I can't say the words. They are stuck in my throat with no hope of escape.

I release his shoulders and walk away before I can cry.

Before I can change my mind.

I hope he knows what I tried to say with that kiss. I hope he understands.

* * *

_San Francisco, California_

"I wish you didn't have to go back." I nearly whisper the words, afraid that if I say them any louder, the tears that are shining in my eyes will fall.

Grissom sighs and pulls me tightly against him. He presses a kiss against my temple. "I'll miss you, too."

I nod, and the tears finally do begin to fall.

"You could come back with me," he whispers.

I shake my head. "No. Not now. Not yet."

He nods and pulls back enough to look at me. "You're so strong, Sara. I know you can find your way back again."

I nod, thinking that "find your way back" has so many meanings for both of us right now that I'm not even sure what he's thinking when he says it.

"Tell everyone hello for me," I say.

"I will," he promises. "They miss you, too. All of them."

"I'll come to visit. Just … not yet."

He nods again and looks at his watch. "I'm going to miss my flight."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"Sara …"

"I know." I wipe at the tears that are beginning again.

He gently wipes my tears away, then, even more gently, touches his lips to mine. I pull him closer and deepen the kiss, wanting more than anything to let this moment replace the memory of the last time I kissed him goodbye.

_It's not the same, it's not the same. We're leaving on good terms. We both know where we are … for the most part. We'll see each other again. _

It's not the same. I know it's not the same. Even so, the memory of kissing him in the lab for what I thought would be the last time will not leave me.

* * *

_Paris, France_

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Grissom smiles. "I can. You've been bored for months. This is the perfect opportunity for you."

"I just wish it could be the perfect opportunity for _us_." I smile sadly. "I feel like we finally found our way back together, and I'm ruining it again."

"Nothing can ever be ruined again, Sara. We belong to each other now." Grissom takes my left hand in his and kisses the gold band he placed on my ring finger six months ago. "Rumi said, 'Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.'" He moves our joined hands to his chest, holding them over his heart so that I can feel it beating. "We're always together, love, no matter where we are."

Tears fill my eyes. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you so much that I want you to go have your adventure in Las Vegas while I have mine here in Paris. I love you so much that I'll pay for international calling plans and trans-Atlantic flights." He smiles. "We'll make this work, Sara. It's too good to let it fail."

I extract my hand from his so that I can throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He hugs me just as tightly, pressing kisses into my hair.

I pull back from our embrace enough to kiss him. He kisses me back, and I can feel all the love he just described.

The memory of kissing him before I left Las Vegas after Natalie is there, to be sure. It always is, every time I kiss him goodbye.

But, this time, it isn't as strong. This time, it doesn't fill me with a sense of sorrow and foreboding.

This time, I'm not afraid to leave him. I'm not afraid that I won't see him again.

This time, I know that he loves me every bit as much as I love him. And, I know that it's enough to see us through.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I hope you enjoy this rather melancholy addition to my little collection. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 901, "For Warrick."

* * *

_You've got all that I need_

I was standing at a newsstand when I first realized what had happened.

I was reading a National Geographic, wondering if I could convince Sara that a trip to Iceland would be a good idea when my radio crackled to life. At first it was like white noise to me – I hear it so often that I barely acknowledge it half the time. Then, I realized what the dispatcher was saying.

_Officer down._

_Alley north of Brayson Street._

Oh, my God.

* * *

It's Warrick's car. I can see it from the other end of the alley. Ignoring the music blasting from the club beside me, I run flat out to the car.

He's there, as I knew he would be from the moment I truly heard the dispatcher. He's slumped over the steering wheel, covered in blood from an obvious neck wound.

Without thinking about evidence or the crime scene, I fling the passenger door open and lunge into the car. I grab Warrick around the shoulders, and pull him out, laying him down on the street.

"Warrick!"

He gurgles, choking on his own blood, and suddenly, that blood is all over me.

"Oh, God!"

I pull off my jacket and pack it against his neck, trying to stop the bleeding.

There is nothing I can do.

I beg him to fight, to hang on.

There is nothing I can do.

I'm holding him as the light goes out of his eyes.

There was nothing I could do.

* * *

Nick arrives moments later. He, too, must have heard the location and realized which "officer" was "down." He runs up to us, stares at his best friend in disbelief, and shakes his head violently.

"No …"

He runs away. I can see him doubled over, vomiting against a building just outside where the crime scene tape will be placed.

* * *

Catherine arrives just after the paramedics have pronounced. They're pulling a sheet over Warrick's body; she watches it as she approaches.

By the time she gets to the body, she's sobbing. She looks at me, her eyes begging me to tell her it isn't true.

I close my eyes and shake my head slightly.

Her sobbing begins again.

* * *

I'm sitting near Warrick's body, leaning back against the side of the closest building. I can't make myself move. I can't make myself feel. I'm completely numb.

Brass is talking to the Undersheriff. Nick is pacing. Catherine is talking on the phone with … someone. Greg, maybe?

"Yeah," she says to the person on the other end. "He's right here. Hold on."

I look up at her standing over me with her phone extended.

"She wants to talk to you."

I take it, wondering who _she_ is. Obviously not Greg. Lindsey, perhaps?

"Hello?"

"Gil, are you all right?"

I draw in a quick breath. "Sara."

"Are you all right?" she asks again.

I look down at my bloody clothes. None of the blood is mine. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You're … fine?"

"Yes. I wasn't here for the shooting."

"I meant …" She trails off. "Good. I'm glad you're all right." Her voice breaks. "I love you."

"Yeah … you, too."

Her voice is shaky when she speaks again. "Gil, please give the phone back to Catherine."

"Okay. Bye."

Catherine is pacing around me. I extend the phone toward her.

"She wants to talk to you again."

She gives me a confused look, but takes the phone back.

At least Sara knows I wasn't hurt.

* * *

By the time Conrad arrives, we haven't done a thing. David is there, but hasn't so much as drawn back the sheet covering Warrick. And, I haven't asked him to. I haven't asked anyone to do anything.

I just … can't.

Conrad looks at me, still sitting on the ground against the building.

"Gil, how do you want to handle this?"

In that moment, something shifts. He's given me a purpose, and it's enough to propel me to my feet.

"I want us to do this, Conrad."

* * *

Hours pass as though in a dream. Time speeds up as I ride in the coroner's van with Warrick's body. It slows down as I walk through the halls of the morgue. It speeds up again as I hand my clothes over to Hodges for processing.

It stops altogether as I shower.

I watch as blood runs across the shower floor to the drain and am struck by the fact that it isn't mine. It's Warrick's blood that I'm watching wash away.

Tears slide down my cheeks.

* * *

I'm halfway to my office before I realize I have no idea why I'm going there. I'm sure there was something I needed, or something I wanted to do, but I can't remember what it was.

Maybe I'll remember once I get there.

I turn the corner into my office and stop short.

_No … it can't be …_

Sara is there, leaning against a chair.

When she sees me, she stands upright and begins slowly walking toward me, even as I'm walking slowly toward her. I'm afraid to move quickly, afraid that this is a dream, and that she'll vanish if I make any sudden moves.

Then, she's right in front of me, staring at me as though she can see into my soul. I look at her for another moment, then lean toward her and pull her tightly against me.

She clings to me just as tightly, crying against my shoulder. I hold her all the tighter.

"I caught the first flight out," she whispers.

I pull her even closer, as though I'll never let go again. Emotions rush to the surface. I suddenly realize that I never truly felt numb at all. I just felt so much all at once that I couldn't feel it all, and was left with next to nothing.

Now, all I can feel is relief.

As long as I have Sara, I can make it through this.

I can make it through anything.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I didn't forget about this story…I just had a tough time getting this chapter right. I hope you like it!

I don't own CSI. Some dialogue is borrowed from episode 804, "The Case of the Cross-Dressing Carp."

* * *

_With you I know I'm good for something, so let's go give it a try_

_October 2000_

Sara's report is exactly what I knew it would be. Warrick left Holly alone at the scene. It doesn't matter that he left her with at least one uniform; she was alone in the building when she was shot.

I bow my head over the report. I know what I need to do. I just hate the thought.

"Grissom?"

I look up to see Sara hovering in the doorway of my office. "Sara. Hi. I was just reading your report."

"Yeah," she says, stepping into the room. "I'm sorry, Griss. I know it's not what you wanted to see."

"You did your job," I say. "You found the truth. Thank you."

She shrugs slightly. "You're welcome." She hesitates, then seems to make a decision. "Look, you called me here to help with this investigation, and now that it's over, I –"

"Stay." The one word that carries unbelievable weight is out of my mouth before I can even realize that I'm saying it.

Sara's eyes open wide. "What?"

What I've just done suddenly strikes me. I pause, licking my lips in a nervous, word-searching gesture. Sara watches me, her expression stunned. I have to explain myself … I have to make her understand that this is purely professional.

"I don't know how to do my job yet," I confess. "I've never had this sort of responsibility, or this sort of power. I have no idea how to be the supervisor of the unit. But, one thing I do know is that I need good people to work with me. Sara, you are an outstanding CSI, and I want you on my team."

Her face flushes slightly as a smile spreads across it.

"Will you stay? Will you work with us?"

Her smile is the brightest thing I've ever seen. If she keeps smiling like that, I may have some issues keeping this _purely professional_. No, don't think that way …

"Yes," she says. "I'll do it."

It was my first real decision as a supervisor. I've always considered it one of my best.

* * *

_October 2007_

I gave her the beekeeper suit after adopting my colony.

It was probably a silly gift. Most women would have laughed at me. But, Sara didn't. She smiled that mega-watt smile that I've seen so rarely since that night in the desert, kissed me and said she loved it.

I'm glad. I love her, and I want to make her happy.

Two days after receiving it, she models the suit for me. I'm working with the bees when she opens the door to the enclosure and walks in looking like the consummate beekeeper. I can't help the grin that spreads across my face at the sight of her.

"Oh, I love it when you dress up," I say.

She giggles. "Anything to get to spend some time with you."

She begins asking me questions about the bees. It's a miracle I can concentrate enough to answer them. I can't believe that she's in the enclosure, that she's wearing the beekeeper suit, and that she's so interested in what I'm doing.

I love her. I love her so, so much.

"They don't sting?" she asks after I've introduced her to the infertile females.

"Well, not unless you swat at one. Or, close one up in your hand, or freak out."

Sara grins, as she always does when I use slang expressions.

"Go ahead, take off your glove," I say.

"Eh," Sara considers it. "All right. I trust you."

As we both watch the bee land on her hand and crawl across it, as she giggles, I realize how much I truly love this woman. How much better of a person I am for having her in my life.

"You know, maybe we should get married." The words that carry unbelievable weight are out of my mouth before I can even realize that I'm saying them. As soon as they are out, though, I realize how very much I mean them. I want to marry her more than I've ever wanted anything.

"Ouch!"

Hm. I suppose she may have freaked out.

"Sorry!" I exclaim.

She's giggling, but I feel terrible. She just said she trusted me, and now …

I grab her hand to scrap the stinger out. As I explain that scraping it is the best method of removal, she giggles again. Although I love the sound, I realize that she hasn't said anything to my suggestion.

I'm still looking at her hand as I ask the hardest question of my life. "So, um … what do you think? You know, about –"

"Yes!"

I look up from her hand into her eyes, stunned by the tears that are standing there. The mega-watt smile – the smile that I fell in love with when we first met – is lighting up her face again.

"Let's do it!" she exclaims.

I still can't quite believe that she's agreeing to marry me. "Yeah?"

She nods and giggles again.

I lean in to kiss her … only to be stopped by our helmets.

Perfect.

Then, she's giggling again and I'm laughing with her.

"I love you," I say. "You know that, right?"

She nods, a tear running down her cheek. "I love you, too," she says. "Forever."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Since we got so little about what went down after Sara left at the end of the "The [not remotely] Happy Place" and when she sent Grissom the video in "Leave Out All the Rest," filling in the gaps seems like a logical idea. Here's my take on it. I hope you enjoy it.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episode 902, "The Happy Place" and episode 905, "Leave Out All the Rest."

* * *

_Let's take a chance, go far away today, and never look back again_

"Grissom."

"Hi, Gil."

"Sara!"

The relief in his voice is enough to make me feel guilty for leaving the way I did. As if he didn't have enough going on, I just disappeared on him. Then again, he was the one to say that maybe "he needed her to leave." I sigh.

"It's me."

"Are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm fine," I reply. "Are you all right?"

He sighs. "As much as I can be without you here … or …"

I bite my lip. I can't cry over Warrick anymore. I just can't.

"Where are you?" he asks again.

"I …"

"Sara?"

"I want you here with me."

"Well, honey, that's tough to do if I don't know where you are."

I knew he wouldn't understand what I want easily. "No, that's not … Listen, Gil. I'm over this. I'm over the whole long-distance thing. I'm over us planning weekends away that get cancelled at the last minute because you have to pull a double. I'm over you saying you're too shorthanded at the lab to visit me. I'm over visiting Vegas and seeing more of the dog and the rest of the team than I do you."

"What are you saying, Sara? That you want to move back? I though you said –"

Now, why would he automatically jump there? "I'm not moving back to Las Vegas."

"Then, what …?"

"I want you to move away with me. I want us to start over, in a new city. I want … I want us to be happy together."

"I am happy with you, Sara."

"How can you be? You're not even _with_ me."

A pause. "I want to be with you, honey. You know that."

"Do I? Really?"

"What do you want me to say, Sara? That I'll quit my job, sell my house and move from the city I've lived in for over twenty years?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I want you to say. I want us to live together, Gil. Is that such a radical thing? I thought you wanted to marry me. It seems logical that we'd live together."

Another pause. "You're serious?"

"I'm very serious. Just to prove how serious I am, I'm not going to tell you where I am until you tell me that you need to know so you can start shipping your belongings."

He exhales. "I'm not allowed to know where you are?"

"You're allowed – as long as you're coming here with me."

"How can you expect me to decide just like that? You're asking me uproot my entire life. You can't just spring this on me out of nowhere, Sara."

I should have known he'd think this was out of nowhere. Subtle clues have never been his strong point – unless, of course, they're leading him to a murderer. "Okay. Fine. If you want some time, take it."

"Okay," he says, some of the tension leaving his voice. "I just … want to think about it before making a decision."

A decision between me and the lab requires intense analysis. How romantic.

"Okay," I agree. I desperately want to give him a deadline, but it just seems wrong somehow. "I'll be waiting to hear from you."

"Sara … I love you."

Prove it, Griss. Tell me you'll leave the lab for me. I sigh. As much as I want to say those words, I just can't. He needs to make up his own mind on this, and I've already laid on enough guilt.

There's really only one thing I can say to him.

"I love you, too."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry about the delay in this and all my stories. Real life has been holding me hostage! I'm trying to play a little bit of catch up.

I hope you enjoy this addition to the story. Thanks for reading!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Since I said I loved you in Las Vegas, it's never been the same since then_

Sara stood in my bathroom, brushing her teeth with her finger. I leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

"You could use my toothbrush, you know."

She looked at me in horror. "Grissom. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?"

I couldn't help but smile. "After what just happened in my bedroom? Honey, I'm pretty sure we shared more than just saliva."

She blushed. "You know what I mean. It's no big deal." She smiled. "I wasn't exactly _planning_ on staying over, you know, so I didn't think to bring mine. I have a toothbrush in my locker at work; I'll just brush my teeth when I get there."

"Okay," I replied. I pushed off the doorframe to stand up straight. "You could just keep a toothbrush here. It would probably be more convenient."

I left the bathroom to give her some privacy as she continued to get ready for work.

The next time she stayed over, her toothbrush stayed behind.

* * *

"I like having you here with me."

Sara smiled and glanced away from the movie we were watching to kiss my cheek. "I like being here with you."

"Stay."

She smiled again and snuggled deeper into my embrace. "If you insist. I wasn't too excited about driving home in the rain."

"Stay … permanently."

Sara sat up to look at me. "You mean … move in?"

"Yeah. Do you want to live with me?"

She gave me a playful smile that didn't quite mask the seriousness with which she searched my eyes. "Do you want me to live with you?"

I smiled shyly. "I like the idea of knowing that you're already home."

She leaned in to kiss me. "I'll stay."

* * *

_I love you_.

When was the last time I said that to her? When was the _first_ time I said it?

I'm sure I can't remember. But, I'm just as sure that I love her more than I can say – and, that she, regardless of what she said in the video, regardless of what Heather thinks – loves me just as much.

And, I'm certain that she knows it. I've been telling her for years without ever saying the words.

I'm about to tell her again.

I review the flight information one last time, then click the _purchase_ button.

My flight to Costa Rica leaves in exactly three weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I've been going back and forth about what to do with this story for quite some time. My initial plan was to have another chapter beyond this one, then I started second guessing myself … and ended up delaying production until now.

Even when I started writing this chapter, I thought there would be another one after it. I was a bit more than halfway through it when I realized that this is where I want it to end.

So, I thank you for taking this lyrical journey with me. I hope you like the way it ends.

Thank you so very much for all your kind reviews, and, most of all, for reading this fic.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration is taken from episode 910, "One to Go."

* * *

_One more kiss, never say goodbye, this is it, baby you're all mine_

Technically, photographing a capuchin monkey isn't in my job description.

But, he's awfully cute, and I think that Greg would appreciate him. I mean, he looks exactly like Marcel from _Friends_ – and, he'll deny it now, but I _know_ that Greg was teary-eyed during the _Friends_ finale. So, I need a picture of this little Marcel look-alike to send him.

I've got a couple pictures already when I can feel eyes staring at me from behind. It's never a comfortable feeling in the rainforest – though, part of that is probably all my years in law enforcement – and I'm aware enough to lower the camera slowly. I don't want to scare whatever is looking at me. I'm not about to become anyone's next meal.

I turn just as slowly and the camera falls to my side. I just barely stop myself from dropping it altogether. Tears fill my eyes.

Grissom is staring at me. Grissom is smiling at me. Grissom is lowering his backpack and walking toward me with open arms.

And, suddenly, I'm in his arms, kissing him as though I'll never get another chance, feeling my body crushed against his.

"What? – How? – Where?" I can't get a single question out as his lips descend on mine again and again.

He finally stops kissing me, and takes the camera from my hand to set on the ground. Then, he wraps me in his arms so tightly that I can barely breathe.

"I love you," he whispers into my ear. "I love you so much, Sara."

The tears that sprang into my eyes when I first saw him finally start to slide down my cheeks.

"I know," I say. "I've always known."

He pulls back to look at me, his expression truly bewildered. "But … that video … you said …"

I manage a lopsided smile. "_I've_ known," I repeat. "I had to wait for you to figure it out."

He exhales slowly. "So … does that mean … Am I too late?"

I shake my head, and feel a beaming smile lighting up my face. "No."

"So … we can …?"

I cock my head to the side. "How long are you staying?"

He shrugs. "As long as you'll have me."

"But … the lab …?"

He shakes his head. "It's Catherine's now."

"So … you really ...?"

"The lab has won for a long time, Sara. This time …" He smiles a bit helplessly. "I couldn't let you go. Not without a fight. The lab lost."

"You just won the fight," I say as new tears begin. "But … you know what you're getting into, right? I've been living the life of a nomad, but right now, I really want to stay here and work at the research center. It's such an amazing place and –"

He silences me with a finger over my lips. "First, you don't need to sell me on a rainforest. You know that I've always wanted to go back."

I nod.

"Second, I've already spoken with the research center's director. As long as you stay, I'll stay."

I stare at him. I'm actually speechless.

"I want to be with you, Sara. We've never followed the rules in this relationship. Why should we start now? We can make it up as we go along." He smiles slightly. "It'll be fun."

"You really mean it?" I finally ask.

He chuckles slightly. "I really mean it. We can stay here, if it's what you want … for now. But, you have to promise that we can take the next opportunity that comes along."

"So … are you saying that we'll go wherever the wind takes us?"

"Yes." He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. "As long as we're together, as long as we know how much we love each other … that's enough for me. That's what I want."

I reach up with my free hand to touch his face, running my fingers over his beard. "It's what I've always wanted."

He smiles, and kisses me again.

_Fin_


End file.
